


Drinking Games on a Spaceship

by theweddingofthefoxes



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Drinking, Drinking Games, F/F, Kissing, Multi, Other, Rogue Robin, rogue robin 011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 06:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10893798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweddingofthefoxes/pseuds/theweddingofthefoxes
Summary: What do starfighter pilots do when there are no missions to fly? Apparently, things that involve alcohol, ridiculous dares, and being absolutely mortified in front of your long-time crush.But... Is it possible... Could he be interested in you, too?





	Drinking Games on a Spaceship

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Drinking Games on a Spaceship](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602135) by [roane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roane/pseuds/roane). 
  * Inspired by [Drinking Games on a Spaceship](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10073852) by [bethagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethagain/pseuds/bethagain). 



> Part 3 of an absolutely gorgeous story for Rogue Robin 2017!
> 
> [Part I](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/2017RogueRobin/works/10073852) by [bethagain](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bethagain/pseuds/bethagain).  
> [ Part II ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10602135) by[ roane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/roane/pseuds/roane)

“I know it’s late,” Luke says by way of apology, “but… can I talk to you?”

You're sober enough to feel your heart hammering with anticipation, but still drunk enough to say, "Yeah, anything--do you want to--come in?" Whether it's the alcohol or the nerves that's making your invitation skid like the worst shuttle landing of all time, you're not sure. 

"Thank you," he says. 

There's nowhere to sit but on the bed. Did he know this? Was this planned out? You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, forcing yourself to relax. How was this so much _less_ intimidating when damn near everybody was watching than when you're alone? It must be because you're not sure what he has to say to you. After all, anytime someone says "Can I talk to you?", it's nerve-wracking. 

You let out a laugh, not a coquettish giggle but a goofy laugh, you can't help it.

"What's so funny?" Luke wants to know. He doesn't sound annoyed--he's amused too, now, genuinely wants to know.

"Just--stars, if someone had told me when I first signed up for flight school that I'd have Luke Skywalker sitting on my bed with me one day, I'd have said..."

" 'Who's Luke Skywalker?' probably," he jokes, that gleaming smile not going anywhere. You let out another ungraceful snort. 

"Well, come on. Asking me to get the timeline straight right now is a little much, don't you think?"

"Could I ask you something else, instead?" He scoots effortlessly towards you as he says it, lined up with a marksman's precision so he could--maybe kiss you again? Not to show off to anyone, not for anyone else to see. Just you. 

You think of the first time you pulled your X-wing into a crazy evasive maneuver, not from an enemy attack but because you had drifted just a touch too close to a fellow pilot-- uh, well, more than a touch, you were more like a fingertip's length from smacking into them. You'd yanked your X-wing way up, nearly flipping the thing upside down, and your stomach had flipped with it. It's doing the exact same thing now.

"Anything you'd like," you answer, trying to summon up that saucy version of you that knew how to wink and banter that you'd had a handle on only an hour or so ago. But the naked look on his face, a cross between happiness and shyness and uncertainty, suggests that his own brand of subtle bravado has ebbed away too.

"Well, I wanted to know if Wedge was right," he says. "When he says that you basically answered the question. But I thought it might be rude to ask you in front of everyone."

"Not to mention it would be a breach of the game's rules," you say, and he smiles again. Never in your life have you seen anyone with a smile like that, stars above. 

"Exactly. So."

He looks expectant, maybe a little more nervous than he did before, now that he hasn't gotten an immediate answer, but surely he can see the look on your face, which is, you imagine, like that of someone starving who's just spotted a banquet table laden with free food. He is closer now, not looking away, scanning your face in the low light of the room. Waiting for your response.

Oh, why make him wait?

"So," you say, that's all you have to say as you close the gap between your mouths--he's set it up just right, all you have to do is lean forward and there he is, kissing you again. If the first kiss was good, this one is even better. Again, he's pressing into your back to get you closer, but without the whoops and yowls and encouragements of the eyes of the group on the two of you, your focus is wholly on his touch, the way he's gently maneuvering you into his lap. It's exciting, the disparity between his sweet, boyish face and his sure hands, which are rough from years working in the desert but which know exactly how to pull and pry and hold without shoving or pushing you in a way you're not into.

There's a flicker of a thought-- _if Tycho and Wedge saw this, they'd absolutely die_ \--before Luke gently, deftly rolls the two of you so you're on your back in your bed, him leaning on his elbows looking down at you, as red-faced as you've ever seen him but pleased as he can be. 

_If Tycho and Wedge saw this, they'd ABSOLUTELY die._

"So let me ask you something," you say, cupping one of his warm cheeks with your palm. "Did you plan to charm me into bed like this?"

"I just planned to charm you," he quips. "You provided the bed."

You laugh again for just a moment before he gets back to business, kissing you more, straddling you now, and there's so much happening all at once--his hands are in your hair or maybe holding your hands with your fingers interlaced or maybe brushing against the shell of your ear. And you're dishing out just as much as you're taking, running your hands along his arms, then in that lovely-messy sandy hair, then around his neck to pull him close close close--He's nuzzling your neck, kissing you more and more softly, down to your collarbone, down to your chest...

You're ready for anything, except for what ends up happening, which is him falling asleep in the middle of your make-out session. When they say 'out like a light', this is exactly what they mean--he's just dropped. He's still sort of on top of you, his head cradled between your neck and shoulder, his hot breath coming out in slow puffs against your skin. 

For a second you're irritated, though it's not _really_ irritation--it's the kind of mock-anger you and the whole squadron dole out on a regular basis, exaggerated insults flavored with adoration. Dummy, jerk, moron, these are all terms of endearment among the pilots, who would die for one another without hesitation but will get into weeks-long name-calling wars over someone taking someone else's breakfast. All you can think is, _this goof!_ But really, Skywalker looks so beautiful asleep in your bed, and besides, holy hells, it's really, really late. When did it get so late? Well, time doesn't mean much when a gorgeous guy is 'confirming' something with you. 

If you're lucky, you'll wake up before he does, too, so you can enjoy a little bit more of his soft breath and soft hair and, oh, goodness, maybe even more than that, something not as soft... 

Of course, if you're not so lucky, you'll wake up with the headache of a lifetime. But no risk, no reward, right? Sometimes it pays to play the Servant.

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVED the first two parts of this story, so I really, really hope I did justice to the ending! Thanks to everyone who participated in Rogue Robin!


End file.
